part0070

F ucking doctors. What the hell did they know about this sort of shit? Charles knew he shouldn’t drink, but damn it, the source of his ulcer problem was stress, and that was better treated by a couple of drinks. And, inevitably, a couple more after that.

In truth, the decanter full of scotch in the corner of his office had been full when he’d started about an hour before, too afraid to head back home without this situation resolved. Kelly had told him that he’d take care of it personally and make sure the word was spread far and wide through his contacts.

It was best to be in the office when the call came in. With Anderson dead, maybe Monroe would take the hint that she wasn’t wanted in Pegasus and stay in the Sahara. And from that point forward, all the fucking assholes who had been shooting his solutions down over the past few weeks would come back looking to make amends simply to have an in with all the money that would be made over the next few quarters. He would be able to pick and choose and tell some of the assholes they would have to watch from the outside.

Charles sucked down the last mouthful of scotch from his glass and poured another one. There was only enough for half a glass, which was disappointing. He’d made sure that his secretary didn’t stock the stuff anymore after his doctor’s orders. Although that wasn’t necessarily a problem. He could head on home for a couple of bottles, right?

The red phone rang, and he took a moment to stare at the damn piece of tech. He didn’t want to answer it or to hear what might be bad news. It could be good news too, he reminded himself, but was it really worth the risk?

“You’re being ridiculous,” he told himself firmly and snatched the phone up.

“Mr. Stafford?” Kelly’s calm, collected voice did little to soothe him.

“Please tell me that you have some good news for me,” he breathed into the mouthpiece. He could smell the alcohol on his own breath, and that annoyed him.

“I’m afraid not. We laid a trap for them in DC, but they managed to give my team the slip. They’re still in pursuit, and I have people coming in to try to cut them off. I’ll notify you when we have some more news.”

Charles didn’t care. He hung up, pushed himself out of his seat, and picked his glass up. His eyes unseeing, he stared at the city sprawled below him. He couldn’t be sure if he looked in the direction in which Washington DC would be, but he had to imagine that he did.

“Why won’t you fucking die?” he screamed suddenly and hurled the glass at the window. He’d wanted it to make some kind of dent in the window proper, but all he got was the shattered glass that spilled the last of his scotch on the floor.

The last of the scotch.

“God fucking damn it,” he whispered and fell into his chair where he sat and simply shook his head. He couldn’t help but feel that if Anderson and his muscle died in this mess, it would make it worth it. It would have to be worth it.

God knew he was spending enough money to get it done.

Anderson looked at Savage as the man worked on reloading the needle strip in his gun. They had driven in silence for a while. Anja had told them to start back to Philly and that she was prepping a surprise involving Sam and Terry. All they had to do was get their asses back to the warehouse and they could spring the trap.

That had been the good news, of course. The bad news was that the price on Anderson’s head had more than tripled and virtually every hit squad on the eastern seaboard now converged on them. Three million dollars—and who knew how much more by now—was one hell of a payday for these people, and they would come for blood.

He wondered if he should feel flattered that this much time and effort went into removing him from the picture. Courtney would probably have a similar price tag on her head, but considering how spectacularly the efforts to kill her in the Zoo had failed, he guessed Charles would wait for her to return and would focus all his efforts on the former colonel in the interim.

Maybe he should think about heading out to the Zoo for a while. He could persuade Ivy and Damon to fly to the Heavy Metal complex and give them a little education on the place, all while getting them and himself out of the line of fire for a while. They deserved that much at least, right?

The silence was killing him, but it didn’t seem right to turn the radio on, not at this juncture.

“How are you boys holding up?” Anja asked over their earpieces.

“All sunshine and roses over here,” Savage replied, slapped the magazine back into his pistol, and eased it into the holster under his shoulder. “How are the preparations going?”

“Sam and Terry have their instructions,” she replied. “Honestly, they seemed like they were excited to do some actual fighting after babysitting. No offense, Anderson.”

“None taken,” the man replied with a small smirk. “That said, if they’ll be out and about, who’ll watch over my family?”

“Well, there’s me, for one. There’s the security in your building for two. And Ivy has herself a gun and an itch to kill anyone who even tries to harm her or little Damon for three. I think they’ll be safe for a short while. You don’t need to worry about them right now, Anderson.”

“Well, I think I will anyway,” the former colonel replied. “It’ll help to keep my mind off worrying about our own safety. It feels both noble and a little less selfish.”

His companion nodded and looked like he approved.

“There is some bad news, though,” the hacker continued. “It looks like our friends at the parking lot had a good look at your plates and they spread the info to the rest of the hordes currently on the hunt. There should be another hundred or so miles still on that car’s charge, but you might want to avoid unnecessary pitstops along the way.”

“We didn’t plan to stop anyway,” Anderson replied. “Is there any more bad news? Besides the fact that we had to leave everything we own, of course.”

“Not really, although what bad news there is happens to be seriously sucky. On the bright side, I think I might have a way to get the money on Anderson lifted, but I’ll need some time on that. Don’t worry about it. Focus on staying alive and I’ll see to the rest.”

“Damn, that ruins my plans” Savage shook his head with mock gloom. “Here I had planned to trust you being awesome and so not stress about getting us out alive at all.”

“Don’t get sassy with me.” She chuckled. “But I appreciate the compliment, as sarcastic as it was.”

“You do what you’re good at,” he replied and patted Anderson lightly on the shoulder. “I’ll make sure nobody can collect on that bounty in the meantime.”

“Good lad.” She added something in what could have been Russian and the connection went silent.

“What do you think about that?” He glanced at his boss. “If anyone can remove the price on your head, it’ll be Anja. Once that happens, what do you think you’ll do?”

The other man shrugged. “Hell if I know. I simply want to go back home to Ivy and Damon. I want to have dinner with them again and apologize for being away so long. Maybe get Ivy something nice to wear first.”

“I think we both know how she’ll repay you for getting her something nice to wear.” He grinned and nudged the man in the shoulder.

“Don’t be gross,” Anderson warned. “Although, yeah. Even if it’s none of your damn business.”

“You might want to remember those tips I gave you back in New Orleans. Just saying.” He tried to avoid the half-hearted punch Anderson threw at him with limited success. The electric car was tiny, after all, with very little room to move around in.

“I want you to know, though,” the ex-colonel said once the quiet had settled around them again. “I wanted to thank you for watching my back. I know Ivy will have some thanks for you too.”

“Well, let’s not plot for the finish line before we reach it, eh?” He leaned back in his seat and stretched clumsily. “I’ll see what kind of thanks I’ll accept from Ivy. Maybe some hot dinners will have to do, right? I mean, Pegasus will cover the financial side of things.”

“You can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?”

“I know, but you love me anyway, don’t you, Colonel?” Savage quipped and lowered his seat a few notches. “We should be fine while we’re on the road but keep an eye open.”

“Do you think we should have told Anja about how we had to leave all our clothes and most of our weapons at the motel?” Anderson glanced at the man beside him, who let his eyes drift shut. “I know I mentioned it vaguely in the everything we own comment, but there has to be some cleaning involved in that.”

“If all goes well, we’ll probably be able to head back there tomorrow or the day after to collect our belongings and check out of the place properly.” The operative’s eyes remained shut. “If we don’t make it, they won’t be our problem anyway.”

“You’re killing me with all this optimism, buddy,” he replied wryly.

Savage popped an eye open to glare at him. “My point was that it’s a problem for when we get out of this alive. Stop worrying about something we can only take care of once our real problems go away. Stay focused.”

The ex-colonel didn’t particularly care to be talked to like that, but he didn’t want to tell Savage how to do his job. The man had a process that involved a lot of focus, and…a little bit of pre-fight napping, apparently.

He could still feel the effects of the adrenaline that had raced through his body during the firefight. The tingling in his fingers and jittery alertness lingered around the edges of his calm.

And there Savage was, taking a quick nap. The simple truth was that he would never understand the man, but maybe that was a good thing. He couldn’t help a small smirk as he relaxed against his seat and watched the miles tick by on the odometer. The car’s readout told him they had a little farther to go before the electric car would need recharging.

It might be enough to get them there, but they would possibly have to ditch the vehicle before then. Anja had said that she was blocking the vehicle’s GPS from notifying the police that it had been stolen. That was positive, but considering how much she was already doing, he had to assume she couldn’t cover that for long. They needed to start doing shit for themselves.